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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667109">Medicine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlystarfire/pseuds/friendlystarfire'>friendlystarfire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and fluff and humor, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, I love that fucking rat, Mentions of Blood, Reader Insert, Slight enemies to lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Touch-Starved, aren't we all, bit of a slow burn relationship, can't convince me otherwise, din is a switch, does that count?, kinda off canon, lots of cute Grogu moments tho, lots of other nasty headcannons but we'll get there eventually, medical stuff from a nonmusical author, oh and some violence in scenes but tw's will be in notes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:47:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlystarfire/pseuds/friendlystarfire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
            <p>Here's the funny thing: you don't remember anything about yourself from before you landed on this planet.<br/>It started with a deal to find you greener pastures, but you’re starting to think you’ll never land on solid ground again. When the view from up here is so nice, who would want to?</p>
          </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Mando/reader, Mando/you, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian)/Reader, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Medicine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Here's the funny thing: you don't remember anything about yourself from before you landed on this planet.<br/>It started with a deal to find you greener pastures, but you’re starting to think you’ll never land on solid ground again. When the view from up here is so nice, who would want to?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: some non-descriptive mention of violence, blood, and death (via weapons or Mando's sheer skill) but nothing too out there. After all, it's only the first chapter. </p><p>** Takes place during the first episode of season two. This entire story barely follows canon tho so be warned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“No! No! You can’t do this!”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“You’re getting too close.”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“Close is what you wanted! Close is what I’ve gotten you!”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It’s your voice, you think. It sounds like you. It feels like you. But it’s distant. An echo from a faraway cave.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>“You’re collateral. We’ll manage without you.”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“No, you won’t! He won’t let you!”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“Once you’re gone he will. One button, and it’ll be like you never existed.”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>There’s a light. Not a very bright one. Just fluorescent enough to sting through the sensitive skin of your eyelids, forcing you back into consciousness.</p><p>The ground is cold against your cheek. Dry. Dusty. Your fingers scrunch the dirt around you, feeling for something to jog your fuzzy memory.</p><p>Growling. Not human, nor alien. Animal. And it’s drawing near you. You must be outside. Is it day? No, it couldn’t be. The sun would be much brighter. You would hear people.</p><p>The smell… It’s metallic. Chemical. As if everything around you is made of iron from eons ago. If the light isn’t the sun, then it must be a street lamp of some sort. What planet fits this vague description? You should know it.</p><p>But nothing comes to you.</p><p>Your eyes finally flutter open, struggling against the exhaustion that riddles your entire body. Part of your deduction was correct: it’s almost pitch black outside and you’re surrounded by rabid red eyes belonging to an unfamiliar creature hiding behind the shadows. Walls upon walls of graffiti-stained building exteriors tower above you making the location seem like an empty metal lunchbox.</p><p>There’s a voice that calls out a name you assume to be yours. You haul yourself off of the dirt floor and lean up on your forearms, buckling from the sudden shift in weight.</p><p>“What are you still laying there for? Get up! You’re a medic aren’t you?” The voice belongs to a funny-looking creature that you somewhat recognize as an Abyssin. “I paid good money for you and even better for the Gamorrean I’m betting on! Get in here and do your job!”</p><p>A medic? Are you a—? Yes, that’s what you are. That sounds right. That much you know.</p><p>But ‘paid money for’?</p><p>Gamorrean?</p><p>Who was he, and where are you?</p><hr/><p>Your first day on the job feels lightyears away. If you’re being honest, you’re not even sure how long you’ve really been working in the dark, mucky underground fight pit run by the planet’s crime syndicates. </p><p>When you came to your senses that night, you couldn’t remember a single detail about who you were or where you came from. All you knew was that you were some sort of medic who got too hot to handle before you lost your memory. That’s what those faraway voices seemed to tell you when you blacked out. You wish you knew more. Maybe then you could figure out how to leave this shithole.</p><p>The pay here is barely enough to feed you or compensate for the amount of trouble you go through trying to patch up knife wounds every night, but at least the pit put a roof over your head. A smelly, dirty, and dangerous roof but still better than being outside with those red-eyed carnivorous creatures.</p><p>The crowd’s cheers vibrate off the concrete walls of the room, cheering on a thick-skinned pig man who’s practically throwing himself in the direction of the other Gamorrean’s ax. All walks of life came into that establishment every night gambling on a champion made to kill their opponent. Absolutely barbaric is what it is. There’s only one thing this place has taught you: you hate violence.</p><p>A brass bell tolls loudly in your right ear, signaling the start of the next round. From across the fighting ring, you see your boss unhappily eyeing his losing bet. Gor Karesh is his name you think; you’ve only ever heard it in passing. Nothing good ever came from anything associated with him, but you’re not surprised after knowing what he’s like as a boss. You already know what to expect after tonight’s match: your payment, a lecture from Karesh to remind you who owns you, and a nice, long shower in hopes of getting the rancid smell of blood off of you. Paradise. He probably knows more about you than you do, but every opportunity to ask him was shut down by a hard slap to the face.</p><p>Guess knowing just wasn’t worth the trouble.</p><p>You cross your arms and lean back on your stool at the outside corner of the ring as you continue to watch the match, keeping an eye out for injuries you’ll have to mend later. A list of procedures counts off in your head as you try to recall the only medical lesson you remember from before your time here: the Tenets of Every Healer. Would be useful to remember the names of a few planets, but instead, you’re stuck with textbook knowledge.</p><p>A bright shimmer of light catches your eye. You’re so accustomed to the dimness of the pit that it almost knocks you off your seat. Where did it come from?</p><p>It flashes again. This time you lock on to its source: a shiny suit of armor sticking out like a sore thumb through the dull, earth-toned crowd. You can’t help but stare at the person in awe; not many people worth staring at come into the joint. They look intimidating, walking with a confident stride that almost convinces you that they belong here.</p><p>Oh, what you’d give to be like them: strong, bold, definitely cleaner. What’re those stories called? The ones that they tell to children? Fairytales! Right, you wish you were like the heroine of those fairytales being saved by a knight in shining… whatever that suit is made of. Your heart flutters at the excitement of a masked stranger in your midst until it stops. Instantly.</p><p>The glittering knight sits beside Karesh and all hope of a dazzling encounter with them fades away. Must be another slimy gambler; how else could they afford a getup that fancy? You should know better than to give in to your fantasies like that. You’re a nobody. What alluring stranger would find you interesting? Disappointed, you try to aim your focus back onto the fight, but you can’t help looking back at their general direction.</p><p>It’s like they want you to keep staring, find something that isn’t actually there. There’s something… nagging at you. It’s not a voice or a sound but more of a feeling that’s tugging on your chest like a fishing line… and it’s telling you not to turn away. A chill runs down your spine. It doesn’t feel dangerousㄧ nothing does after working here for so longㄧ but it’s uncomfortable.</p><p>Your eyes scan the crowd, trying to decipher what is causing the funny feeling. Whatever (or whoever) it is can’t possibly hurt you from where you’re sitting anyway, you think. But what are you looking for?</p><p>Nothing looks out of place save for Karef’s shiny friend and that big metal ball with—</p><p>Wait.</p><p>Is that?</p><p>No… It can’t be. Who would—</p><p>No, it is.</p><p>Your brows furrow as you squint to try and make out the small green blob floating beside the suit. It’s blurry but your vision doesn’t betray you: there’s a child floating in its cradle beside the tin can and it’s like time slows down as you come to the realization. What in the galaxy is that doing here? It doesn’t look human, more Gamorrean from your vantage point. A gag nearly escapes your throat, and you’re almost more disgusted by the thought of a tiny humanoid pig in the cradle than the act of bringing a child to a fight club. No sane parent would bring an innocent baby anywhere near this place, you decide. If the shiny suit is the kid’s parent, then you have all the more reason to resent them like you do everyone else. You might not remember what the rest of the galaxy is like but it couldn’t have come down to this. No one should have to step foot in a place as filthy as the fight pit you think as you stare right at the poor thing, almost pitying its mere existence.</p><p>Then you notice: it’s staring right back at you. Not just an accidental glance your way but straight at you, into your eyes. Is that where the funny feeling came from? By now you’re used to being ogled by the pit-goers; it’s unnerving enough having to make eye contact with adults but this little… thing… makes you more nervous than staring straight at Gor Karesh. What’s worse is that the longer you look, the more familiar he begins to look. You want to get closer, steal a good look for yourself. Just as you lean forward—</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>S H W H E W ! ! </em>
  </b>
</p><p>A blastershot hits the Gamorrean you were meant to be focusing on dead, reducing them into nothing but a heavy lump of hide. The sound of it almost knocks you off your stool, shaking your nerves so badly. There was a body spread out before you like a tribute to a horrid Maker. It shouldn’t have spooked you so much. After all, you’ve seen one before, but it does and you don’t know why. Your mind instantly goes to the kid. Where did that little one go?</p><p>There’s a high pitched whistle that erupts with a loud POP! All the men surrounding Karef fall to the floor in lifeless heaps followed by the shuffle of feet towards that direction. You can’t even blink twice before the pit erupts in utter chaos as spectators flood the main exit.</p><p>Running seems like a good idea.</p><p>There are sounds of a scuffle and the other Gamorrean leaps from the ring swinging its ax over its head as it attempts to land on the shiny stranger. It too falls to the ground limply, joining all the others...</p><p>Running is definitely a good idea.</p><p>Your brain finally communicates with your muscles sending your limbs into a scatter around you as you scramble off of your stool and towards the main exit. You may not remember how long you’ve lived, but you know it’s not long enough. But the kid. Where did it go? You can’t leave a kid behind.</p><p>The ground feels like jelly beneath your wobbling knees, vision blurring as you make a lousy attempt toward the exit. You’re looking around everywhere for any sign of the green blob as make it to the far side of the ring almost safe and through the—</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>B A N G ! </em>
  </b>
</p><p>A round sphere of metal crashes into you, throwing you to the wall almost comically. If the air from your lungs hadn’t just been knocked out of you, you might’ve laughed at the divine timing of it all. You land hard onto the cement floor and the room begins to spin. It’s the cradle holding what you hope is the kid inside. At least one of you will make it out alive. What you think is your hand reaches up to hold your head, trying to stop the dizzying feeling. There’s so much adrenaline pumping through your veins that the pain radiating from your torso fails to feel any worse than a stubbed toe and you’re thankful as you immediately begin to run through your first-aid list in your head. What’s left of your small understanding of self-preservation is screaming at you to get back up and run, but your legs seem to have failed you. How did that ball manage to throw you off this badly?! Everything happens so quickly, all just a blur of colors washed in the putrid orange light you’re accustomed to.</p><p>Stars… eyelids are heavy. Or at least yours feel heavy, and you find yourself struggling to keep them open. You know that there’s more fighting occurring across from you, sounds of metal against metal, but you’re barely coherent enough to make sense of who’s who.</p><p>The world around you goes dark.</p><p>It goes quiet for a moment.</p><p>Then words sound in and out of your mind.</p><p>
  <em>“... waste of talent... No one… worth remembering about... soft fool…” </em>
</p><p>It suddenly feels warm.</p><p>Your ears pop as you snap awake to a pair of gigantic brown eyes shrouded by fuzzy green ears, its tri-clawed little hand reaching out for you in an attempt to grab at you. A gasp escapes you as you scurry backward away from whatever it is. You’re completely stunned. Even with your lack of memories before your current position, you’re sure you wouldn’t forget something that looks like… well, that.</p><p>“Kid…? Wh-What the gfresh are you?” you say, blinking back at the pig-faced creature in its cradle. Your previous deductions from that far distance were certainly incorrect: it’s not a Gamorrean. Maybe it’s a hairless Ewok? You wouldn’t know though; you’ve only ever seen one in anatomy books you’ve collected. The ears alone check off any species you can think of. It’s babbling gibberish at you as if you’d understand a word it was saying, but it seems panicked by the way it’s almost jumping out of its cradle to come nearer to you. The feeling of familiarity appears to be mutual; it’s acting like it knows who personally. Maybe it did? Not that it would make the situation far less confusing. There’s the familiar tug from earlier, pulling at you like a leash, and it’s telling you to take its hand. Should you really? Out of your better judgment, you begin to lean forward, giving in to the sensation out of sheer curiosity—</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>S H W O O M ! !</em>
  </b>
</p><p>You pull your hand close to your body, clutching it as if it were the most precious thing you owned, which given your career choice it is. Your hypothetical question has just been answered: you shouldn’t.</p><p>“Get away from him.” a deep modulated voice booms over you, holding a blaster aimed directly at your head. “Any closer and you’re dead.”</p><p>The sheen from his armor is almost blinding from this close. There he stood before you in all his deadly glory; whoever stood beneath the surface was intimidating, trained, and definitely a force to be reckoned with. You suddenly get the impressions that that shot missed on purpose.</p><p>Your heart is racing a mile a minute, the blaster aimed at you doing nothing to diffuse the tension, and the kid still has the audacity to keep screeching at both you and the masked killer. The helmet gazes between you and the child clearly attempting to make sense of the situation.</p><p>Your mouth goes dry as he addresses you directly. “Who are you?” the man asks warily. “Why’s he screaming like that?”</p><p>“I-I don’t know?” your face contorts into a confused expression. “His cradle knocked me out onto the wall. He kept screaming at me when I woke up.”</p><p>The blaster points at you for what feels like the longest minute of your life before the man puts it down and takes a cautious step towards you.</p><p>“Answer the first question. Who are you?”</p><p>Out of sheer nervousness, you begin to spew out your name, occupation, and who you work for having nothing else to offer him besides that piece of information. When you finish, your eyes scan the room only to realize that you’re all alone; if he ends you right there and then, there would be no one to witness it. Great. He takes another heavy step toward you, making you flinch at the unexpected jerk of his body.</p><p>“Relax,” he says with his hands up, “I’m not going to hurt you.”</p><p>“Did you tell the dead guys the same lie?” Although you’re cowering beneath your forearms, barely finding the bravery to take a peek over them, you puff up your chest defiantly.  </p><p>“No, just you.”</p><p>You cower away when he takes a long stride toward you, but you instead find him collecting the fussy child into his arms to try and soothe him. He looks so gentle with green womp rat that you put two and two together for the first time all night.</p><p>“That thing is yours?” you ask on impulse. The helmet jerks in your direction, not saying a word in response. Heat spreads over your cheeks in embarrassment for asking such a silly question. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insultㄧ I’ve just ne-never seen anything like it.”</p><p>“He’s not a ‘thing’ or an ‘it’.” he defends. By now, the child’s panicked yelps have subsided, allowing the man to set him back in his cradle. You watch their movements carefully, curious but still afraid of both of them, yet the child’s eyes never leave you.</p><p>“You should know that Gor Karesh is dead,” he says plainly. You freeze, a wave of dread overcoming you.</p><p>“I’m sorry, what?” you ask at a loss of words.</p><p>The man repeats himself. “Your boss. He’s dead now.”</p><p>A million things race through your mind all at once.</p><p>You should be grateful, elated at the death of your captor, but you’re… not. Not when he’s the only thing tying you to your identity, your livelihood, you. There’s no one else other than him who knows you were before your appearance, but now that he’s dead… what hope do you have in finding out your origin story?</p><p>When you’re silent for longer than anticipated, the man looks over at you with a semblance of a defense: “He didn’t leave me much choice.”</p><p>“Yeah? Well, that makes two of us,” you say almost breathless. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and the panic is beginning to set in now. It feels like a repeat of your first night here. You’re utterly lost again like a newborn fawn with no parent, currently in the hands of a deadly tin man.</p><p>“You don’t belong to him anymore. Find honest work elsewhere.” He pauses for a moment and makes a gesture toward an apology, but you raise a hand to stop him before the words leave his modulator.</p><p>“He… He’s a gravel maggot. It doesn’t come as a surprise. Just wish you’d have waited ‘til after he paid me. It wasn’t much, but I needed it to feed myself for the week.”</p><p>“Didn’t realize I needed to consult his fight medic.”</p><p>“Would’ve been a nice unemployment memo.” A gloved hand extends itself for you to take, but you eye it suspiciously as you try to deny the wetness at the corner of your vision.</p><p>“I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you.” His voice is softer, maybe even sympathetic, but you can’t tell over the static drowning out his voice through the speaker.</p><p>“Yeah, after you shot at me, Shiny.” Sarcasm is the only emotion registering correctly in your head. “If I were lucky you wouldn’t have missed. Least then I wouldn’t have to worry about starving.”</p><p>Everything around you is a numb blur, but you reach out and hesitantly take his hand anyway, feeling yourself being hauled up by his strong, effortless grip. When you get to your feet, you’re met by your own reflection in the black mirror of his helmet’s visor. It’s pitch black in there. You wonder if he can see you now, unsure of whether you were staring at a person through the shield or just at an opposite version of yourself. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was thinking the same about you.</p><p>“You done?” he asks plainly, although his hand never leaves yours. Your breath catches in your throat, but you’re the first to let go, his touch starting to feel like hot coals against your skin. Is it the tension from losing your job or is it the danger in shaking hands with the enemy?</p><p>Neither of you speaks for a moment, too focused on sizing each other up. You should be mad, really you should, but there are far too many thoughts spinning in your head for you to realistically react to the news.</p><p>“What are you?” your shaky voice breaks the silence.</p><p>“I was a bounty hunter.”</p><p>“Present tense. I didn’t ask what you were.”</p><p>“You’re not exactly in a position to be asking the questions about someone who’s armed.”</p><p>“Well, you killed my boss. I at least deserve an explanation for my current lack of employment.”</p><p>“Find a different boss that won’t force you into slave labor.”</p><p>“Have you got any ideas then, Shiny?”</p><p>The tension is thick. It’s obvious. You’re not one to be hostile, but the onset of your demise has really given you the confidence to say what you want. Either he doesn’t care that you’ve lost your livelihood and your sense of safety or he genuinely can’t afford to bear the weight of your conflicts, but the only response he gives you is: “That’s not my problem to solve.”</p><p>Those few words are what send you over the edge. Were you really going to cry right now? Why, stars, why did you choose now of all times to bring the waterworks? It’s not like he could do anything about it anyway; he can’t bring back the dead. You fervently wipe at your cheeks, trying to deny the painful loneliness that his response seems to suggest. You were alone again, truly alone this time. Karesh was not good company, but at least his demands gave you purpose. What purpose is there now for someone who can’t even remember their last name? If not even for the sense of belonging, his reputation gave you protection against all the potential horrors for a woman underground. What’s going to be left of you without him?</p><p>A soft tug on your pinky pulls your attention to a pair of glossy brown bug-eyes. It looks like you’re not alone in the sentiment. Tears well up in the child’s eyes as he continues to pull on your fingers with his little hands. One sniffle through his little pug-nosed snout turns into two, three... Then all at once, wails rake through his little pudgy body much as yours do.</p><p>“No, no why is he— Oh no how do I make him s-stop?” your voice comes out nasally. Through your own rickety hiccups, you’re attempting to quiet him, already annoyed that your tears have triggered a tidal wave in him.</p><p>He pants in between cries, taking huge breaths in preparation for the next shaking sob. Somehow, seeing him crying only made you feel worse even though you were the one facing your potential end.</p><p>The man curses under his breath as he stares at both of you in utter disbelief. “Did you drug him or something?” the man asks frustratedly.</p><p>You just shake your head no, uncomfortably letting the kid hold onto you while you both stand there with tear-stained cheeks.</p><p>His father turns to him, walking over to pick him up, but to your surprise he refuses his touch, inching away from him and closer to you. His stubby arms tightly wrap around your wrist practically screaming at the masked man while clinging onto you for dear life. Looks like he’s just as upset with Shiny for leaving you to the dogs.</p><p>“Alright,” he lifts a hand up to pinch the center of his visor, clearly annoyed by the noise bouncing off the walls of the room, “that’s enough crying. Stop it.” You’re not sure who the statement is pointed at, but it doesn’t take more than a minute for you to regulate your breathing.</p><p>“Wiring. Ships. Engines. Do you know anything about them?”</p><p>You pause for a minute, unsure of why he’s asking you such a question. You’ve never even seen a spaceship before, let alone fiddled with one’s engines. You’re a medic for galaxy’s sake, not a mechanic! You’ve never seen the outside of the city! He takes your silence as a solid no.</p><p>“How about weaponry? Arms? Maintenance?”</p><p>You hate violence. What would you know about fighting? Your chest is starting to tighten up again, tears finding their way back into your eyes. You want to explain yourself, but you don’t trust your voice not to shake. Another silence and another hard no. Even though you can’t see his face beneath the helmet, you can feel his exasperation over your apparent lack of modern skill.</p><p>“Look, I’ll give you passage onto the next planet that’s safe, but I’m not taking you with me unless you can be useful.” He takes a moment to contemplate his next choice of words. “Help me out here.”</p><p>You rake through your brain, trying to think of something that would be useful to someone who seems so self-sufficient. He said he was a bounty hunter. It sounds dangerous. Danger can get you hurt right? Your thoughts spring into a semi-coherent string of words. </p><p>“Wounds. I ca-can patch up a knife wound in less than three mi-minutes.” You offer up through shaky breaths, watching him for a reaction. You need to give him more. “My ha-hands. I’m good with them, and if I’m not I’ll learn to be. I-I learn really quickly too. My hands and my head. That’s the best I can give you.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>You start to wonder if anything you said was even worth anything to him. Did you say something wrong? He just silently stands there staring at the sobbing mess you are, and it feels like you’re under a microscope being studied, judged.  </p><p>And then he quietly mutters: “That’ll have to do.”</p><p>You look up at him still recovering from your crying fit, but suddenly he doesn’t seem so robotic anymore. Maybe there is a man beneath the shell, and if there is then he definitely has a heart. There are no words that can escape your mouth at the moment, but you can’t say the same for the kid. He’s gurgling happily, tugging on your shirtsleeve.</p><p>It takes another minute before you can inhale and muster a curt courtesy: “Tha-Thank you, Shiny.”</p><p>“Don’t thank me unless you survive the trip… And it’s Mando. I’m a Mandalorian.”</p><p>There’s a flutter in your heart when he says his ‘name’ as if the knowledge of it was something special to behold. If you knew what a Mandalorian was, maybe you’d feel even more so, but you don’t. You’ll have to ask him later. All you know is that he’s better than Gor Karesh, even if he did shoot at you; something tells you you can trust this stranger.</p><p>What matters now is that you’re not alone. At least for a little while, you won’t be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>friendlystarfire.tumblr.com</p><p>A/N: Y'all gotta tell me that you thought the same thing I did when MC told Mando she was good with her hands. Because, honey, I assure you Mando's conscience went "whatdidshesay???" and took that silence to run through a few scenarios in his head. ...But he'll never admit that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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